The Duo
by CRUSH937
Summary: The zombie infestation is spreading across the Earth in a menacing rate, and the human race has fallen into jeopardy. Who will rise up to meet the challenge? Who will dare look death in the eye? Rated M for gruesome scenes and language.
1. Chapter 1: On Our Own

Chapter 1: On Our Own

Heather's POV

"James, I've got another one! Are you guarding your windows or what?" I called out angrily to my partner, who was supposed to be guarding two out of the four windows in the Nazi base of Kino Der Toten: the one upstairs and the one on the bottom of them. However, he let yet another slip by, and the stupid, decaying monster almost had me!

"James!" I repeated, seeing as he had not responded. All of a sudden, I heard a loud shout of fear and the cries of a hoard of flesh-craving zombies. He had done it again, the little fool.

I immediately sprinted upstairs, where I found him on top of a rotting dresser, trying desperately to escape the clutches of the seven zombies who surrounded him. I sighed as I saw his Olympia on the floor where he had accidentally dropped it. I ran my hand through my long, straight black hair in frustration, my light blue eyes glaring at him as he edged further back on the dresser, his face almost as pale as my skin.

"Nice going, you jackass. Maybe I should let them eat you this time… See if you learn your lesson." I said, but my voice called their attention. I calmly lifted my own M1 Grand as they charged, and emptied out my clip into each of their skulls. Not a single bullet missed.

Seeing as the coast was clear, James slowly set a foot down, but his grip on the dresser slipped, and he fell down on his back with a heavy _thump_. Almost instantly, the old dresser collapsed and all the rotting wood panels landed on top of him, throwing up a cloud of dust.

"I owe you one." He groaned through the debris.

"You owe me plenty." I said, and walked back to my own post.

When I reached my post between the two windows downstairs, I sat down, constantly looking at both of them to make sure that no zombies were on their way. Convinced, after about ten minutes of waiting, that no more zombies were headed for us at the moment, I relaxed, listening of the sounds of James nailing the boards back to their proper places, trying to plan our next move. We couldn't stay here forever.

I sighed once again as I fell into the exact same routine as I had for months. It was so depressing when you were always on the run. In all my nineteen years, I hadn't had to fight for my life, or experience this kind of pressure before. That just came to show how change could come so suddenly and change your life forever.

Just four months ago, I was at home with my parents and my younger brother, when we heard strange noises outside. At the same time, the emergency broadcast system appeared on the radio telling everyone in our area to remain in their homes and wait for a relief force.

"But we already have troops in our area." My mother said, confused.

All of a sudden, lustful cries filled the night, and soon enough, the converted townsmen were smashing our windows and breaking down our doors. My father bravely held them at bay with his shotgun, but not for long. Even as those wretched monsters from Hell tore his entire digestive system out, he was still shouting for us to get away. Their claws became entangled in his intestines and his voice came out as a gurgling sound. It was utterly horrifying.

As we ran for our lives out the back door, we found out that my mother wasn't fast enough. Zombies came at her from every angle, and eventually downed her. I feared the same fate would come to my brother, so I quickly picked him up and ran at full speed.

The night air held a bitter taste as the adrenaline drenched my blood and pumped through my veins. My tears spilled from my eyes and ran down to my chin. My seven-year-old brother clung to me, face buried in my neck.

I had always been the one to comfort him; the one to tell him that everything was going to be alright. But tonight, I was lost for words. My thoughts revolved around death, or a life living off of human flesh and blood.

The rotten stench… It was getting closer. It was becoming unbearably strong to the point of making my head spin, and I started getting dizzy. My steps became unsteady, and my sight, blurry. I came to a halt when a hideous animal crossed my path. It looked like a deformed monkey, emitting some sort of deadly gas. Without warning, it lunged for me, but I wasn't his target.

My captured brother struggled in the strange creature's grip, while I had to use all my energy just to stand. I was stunned and unable to do a thing but watch as my last surviving family member was devoured alive.

It would have hurt much less if he would have just died, even if he was crying, "Heather, Heather!" However, as if to mock me, the creature ceased his carnage, and allowed him to convert. He no longer had a mind of his own. My tears could have made a river through the neighborhood as the zombies closed in from every direction, my own brother in the lead.

Each of his moans were delivered as if he were in pain, and I could almost hear his new, rattling voice calling my name. I knew it was just my imagination, but I couldn't help but wonder. The gas had worn off after the creature put some space between us. I took this chance and ran. I ran for my life, though I couldn't see why. All was lost. I had nothing to live for…

However, a new light was brought into my world, and it gave me a reason to fight. I ran for the city gates as fast as I could, but not fast enough. People I once knew well were now after my flesh, and for a second, it looked like they were going to get it. A zombie with a swastika band tied to his arm slashed at me, but at the exact same time, I heard the powerful roar of an engine not too far away, and a split second later, an olive green Gran Torino slammed into him, leaving him in pieces.

"Get in! Quick!" A voice I would come to know like the back of my hand said, and without thinking twice, I hopped in. My savior's golden brown hair, pulled back into a ponytail, glowed under the moonlight, which also illuminated the rest of his features. He wore all-black clothes and jet black shades, even in the night. His light tan skin shone in the dark.

"My name is James." He said, and we rode away from the city, running over every zombie that got in our way with that car, which I soon found that he had hijacked from an auto shop. Boy, was he resourceful or what?

"Ah, I'd really kill for some light in here!" James called, but not from his post. I turned to my left and saw him next to me, stretching out on the floor, and allowing a loud yawn.

"James!" I yelled. "Get back to your post this instant before I tear your brains out and feed them to the dogs!"

"Okay, okay! Sheesh!" He muttered, and began to walk back upstairs. However, almost as if on cue, the room began to get hazy to the point where you could hardly see your hand in front of your face. Menacing, inhuman voices began to whisper something about taking our souls, and we immediately knew what was about to go down.

"Shit, Heather! You jinxed it!" James cried.

"Hurry! Get up against a wall!" I ordered, and we quickly took formation.

**A/N: Alright! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please review. I could use some constructive criticism.**


	2. Chapter 2: A Tight Spot

Chapter 2: A Tight Spot

James's POV

"What are you waiting for, James? Get your sorry behind over here and get into formation!" Heather commanded from the corner of the room, and I scrambled off the stairs.

"They're going to surround us here. You know that, right?" I said once I kneeled beside her, checking the amount of ammunition I had left.

"I shoot, and then you shoot while I reload, and we repeat the process. It's not like they can go around us either. We're in a corner. Has it ever failed?" She replied.

"No, but I actually had a fair amount of ammo all those other times. I've got three rounds left." I answered, and her eyes narrowed into the familiar glare that seemed to say, "Oh, you idiot!" Heck, I didn't exactly blame her.

"Well, it's too late now." She muttered, and a hellhound came charging right at us.

Heather took the first two, using only one clip of her M1 Grand rounds, and I shot the next two while she reloaded. It went on for a while, until we were sure that no more dogs were on their way.

"Alright," said my partner, standing up from her crouched position, "those dogs don't travel in larger packs than that. I think we're good." However, the haze wasn't going away.

"Heather…" I called in a shaky voice, still in formation.

"What?" She questioned, not bothering to turn my way. She was reloading her weapon with the last couple of rounds she had left. When I didn't answer, she turned around, and in front of us were at least ten more of those wretched dogs. Their eyes were filled with a hungry and ready-to-kill expression.

"Oh, no…" Heather muttered, and we began to run for the door under the stairs. We knew that we couldn't hold them off with our poor supply of ammunition. I quickly went to open the door and my partner threw two grenades behind us. We were ready to book it out of there. There was only one little problem: That stupid door just wouldn't budge!

"Holy crap, what are we going to do?" I shrieked, frantically looking around the room for spare weapons as Heather, aware of our situation, began to shoot those hellhounds down with even more precision than before in order to save her last magazine.

Finally, she was down to two dogs, but to what effect? She had run out of ammunition, and so had I. The two remaining hellhounds charged, and we were forced to dodge them.

One of the dogs growled at Heather and lunged, slashing at her feet. The attack set her off balance and she tripped. The hellhound landed on top of her, and its ferocious teeth clashed with her knife. The collision made a scraping sound as her arms quivered under the hellhound's strength.

Seeing the situation, I raced over, my own knife at the ready, but I had completely disregarded my own enemy, and he downed me quickly. The situation seemed hopeless, and I couldn't help but believe that this was all my fault. If I was only a little more careful with my ammunition, those hellhounds wouldn't have stood a chance, but I always had to ruin everything. Now, as we were about to die, I fully realized that. I wished I wouldn't have been so stupid. I wished that I could be the one she could depend on, instead of being yet another burden. The only times I ever did anything right was sheer luck, and that was something we couldn't always count on. In other words, she was always the one to pick up the slack, but she was down now…

As I squirmed hopelessly under the dog's weight, I heard my partner cry out in pain. One swift glance at her explained it all. The creature had slashed at her arm, and she was quickly bleeding out.

My eyes widened behind my shades as the horror of losing her tore at both my heart and mind. She had been a sister to me ever since that wretched day in my hometown, when everything we used to know was crushed into a million worthless pieces.

"No!" I exclaimed, and mustered up as much strength as I could to get that hideous dog off of me. I then lunged at the hellhound on top of Heather, and began my gore fest. I wouldn't stop stabbing until its bloody guts lay scattered on the floor, and its heart was shoved down its throat.

Once again, however, I forgot about my own enemy, who was set on doing to me what I had just done to his fellow hellhound. By the time I was through with him, there was nothing left except what I couldn't put my knife through, and I helped Heather up. As I wiped the rotten blood and guts from my coat, my partner's eyes grew wide, and she sprung towards me, dropping me to the floor.

"What the hell, Heather!" I shouted. Her hands were gripping my arms a little too tight. But she couldn't have converted this fast, could she?

At the same time, I saw the last hellhound leap over us. It had obviously been targeting me. I sighed with relief, finally comprehending my partner's actions.

Heather hastily wrapped a bandage on her injury, and I scrambled to my feet and began circling the beast with my knife set in front of me like a shield. Heather followed, and the hellhound turned from one to the other, trying to decide which one of us would become its next meal.

Suddenly, the sound of bullets rang through the air, and the hellhound collapsed. The haze began to clear, and in front of us were two strangers holding AK74U's. The door under the staircase was ajar.

"You know how to say owned in Russian? Owned!" The one who had shot bellowed. He had "Nikolai's Vodka" written all over his bag, so we guessed that was his name. He sounded vaguely familiar…

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" The other questioned. "What is a pretty little girl and a feisty little boy doing down here?" We didn't answer.

"What? Not a single fucking thank you? Nothing? We just saved your sorry asses." The Russian growled.

"Finally! Humans!" I yelled with relief, though it came out more like a grunt because of my still fluttering heart and the need for breath. Throughout those four painful months, we hadn't met a single human being.

"I told you they were zombies…" Nikolai muttered to his partner, lifting his weapon again slowly.

"No, not like that!" Heather cried. "Please, we need help! We're just a couple of survivors from zombie attacks. We have no family or home to go back to. Please help us!"

"And why the hell should we?" The Russian said, taking a swig of liquor from a flask.

"Put that down, Nikolai. You're going to get drunk and useless like last time!" The other said.

"Fuck you, American! I'll drink my vodka when I want to!" retorted Nikolai. His partner rolled his eyes.

"Look kids, if you need help, well help yourselves because we're in a bit of a tight spot and we don't have time for you." He said. "And speaking of tight spots…" The American turned around and began shooting at an oncoming hoard of creepers and zombies, but to no avail. They just kept on coming.

"Shit! A little help here Nikolai?" He shouted, and Nikolai turned unsteadily towards the zombies.

"Right with you, Tank!" He responded, and clumsily raised his AK74U. However, his aiming was completely reckless and inaccurate. The Vodka had finally taken its toll.

"Ah! Tank, this is what you get for letting him drink those last four bottles of Vodka!" Tank yelled, continuing to shoot at the zombies, who were dangerously close by now.

"Oh, give me that!" Heather exclaimed, and shoved Nikolai aside, taking his weapon and his grenades. She tossed the AK74U to me and began to cook the grenades. I immediately began to fire.

"Ah, the little bitch! That was my Vodka! Mine only!" He complained, and lunged for Heather. My partner, however, was able to dodge him while throwing three cooked grenades at the zombie hoard. They exploded a split second after, leaving them no time to react.

"Shut the hell up, Nikolai! The lady is working here!" Tank ordered angrily, turning his head to look at his partner. However, that was a mistake.

Noticing this opening, a zombie pushed forward through the remaining crowd and took a hold of Tank's neck. I immediately tossed my weapon to Heather because I thought that shooting him would put the American in risk of a bullet, and I lunged at the struggling pair. I was able to break the zombie's grip on Tank, and I aimed a kick to its torso. I missed, but it definitely ended well. My sneakers came in contact with his chin, and his head came right off, thanks to the decaying flesh.

By the time I looked up, all the zombies that had been in front of us were on the floor, a bullet in each of their skulls, and Heather was kneeling next to Tank, checking for wounds. "Whatever… Even a blind squirrel is right twice a day." He said, and we helped him up.

In the background, the drunken man was laughing like there was no tomorrow. "Did you see that?" He said. "That was fucking badass kid!" As much as I hate to admit it, I'm pretty sure I blushed in embarrassment.

"Kid has a name, you know." said Tank, and he turned to us. "Who are you guys? Cause' I know sure as hell you're no rookies." He looked at us with suspicion written all over him.

"Like I said," spoke Heather, "We're just people who need a place to go, and a way to get out of here."

"And your names are…" He pressed on, and I answered.

"This is Heather, and I'm James."

"Well, Heather… James… You're coming with us now. You've proven to be of use, unlike some people." Tank glared in Nikolai's direction.

"Got that right! If it weren't for sexy bitch and pretty boy, your ass would be on the house!" He commented, ignoring his offense.

"Shut your mouth, Nikolai, before I tear your brains out and feed them to the dogs!" Tank replied, and I turned to Heather, grinning.

"Something tells me you're going to get along just fine with him." I whispered, and she shook her head, laughing as she heard her favorite line being spoken by someone else.

**A/N: Thanks to all those who have reviewed! I really appreciate it!**


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